Smooth Criminal
by mermaidNZ
Summary: AU / fusion with 'White Collar': Special Agent Danny Williams spent three years chasing Steve McGarrett around the world. Now that brilliant forger, conman, and thief has escaped from prison, and it's Danny's job to find him again. - S/D, pre-slash only.


**Pairing:** Danny/Steve (pre-slash). Past Steve/Cath and past Danny/Rachel.

**Rating:** PG-13 for language and non-explicit sexual references. No content warnings apply.

**Spoilers: **nothing major for either show.

**Author's notes:** you don't need to know _White Collar_ canon to enjoy this fic – with two minor exceptions, all the characters are from _Hawaii Five-0_.

If there's enough interest in this 'verse, I'll try to write more once I finish my current AU epic. So let me know what you think, please...

* * *

><p>A safety deposit box has just exploded, showering everyone in the Midtown bank vault with plaster dust and three-inch red metallic threads. Special Agent Danny Williams is about to chew out the safecracking guy – supposedly the FBI's finest – for ignoring his shouted warning and destroying valuable evidence. But Danny's pre-rant intake of breath just triggers a prolonged coughing fit, and the technician beats a hasty retreat.<p>

So Danny's not exactly in a good mood when Jenna Kaye, his 2IC, approaches a minute later and pulls him aside.

"Steve McGarrett escaped," she tells him, and then stands there patiently while Danny alternates between coughing and cursing.

Jenna had been wide-eyed and a little shy when she was first assigned to the New York field office, fresh out of Quantico. But after five years with his White Collar Crime unit, not even Danny's most inventive invective can make her blink. He doesn't know if he should be proud or ashamed of that.

Within minutes, Danny is en route to the supposedly Super-Max federal prison upstate. He's actually glad to be alone in the car, because it means he doesn't have to mask his anticipatory grin.

Work has been kind of dull recently, with the usual financial crimes only enlivened by frustrating days like today: getting tantalizingly close to the ghost-like forger nicknamed 'The Dutchman', only to have the evidence literally blow up in Danny's face. After 10,000 man hours, they don't even know the bastard's real name.

Going up against Steve again should be _much _more fun.

* * *

><p>Danny's original hunt for one of the Bureau's most wanted white collar criminals had taken three years, with Steve leading him on a merry dance across the country and through the more scenic parts of Europe.<p>

When Danny finally arrested him in Chicago, the guy actually had the chutzpah to claim that the globetrotting was partly for Danny's benefit.

"I figured a man with your intelligence and interests needed to see more of the world than just New York and North Jersey, so I brought you along on all these free vacations." Steve gave him that warm smile that was one of his chief weapons. "I thought you'd be pleased, Danny."

"First of all, that's Special Agent Danny Williams to you," Danny said. He pushed Steve up against the wall of the Hilton's parking garage, heedless of any damage to the guy's pristine tuxedo, and pulled out the handcuffs.

"And second: no, I am not pleased that you robbed Italy's greatest museums and left a trail of charmed but impoverished heirs and heiresses along the French Riviera. I work for the federal government, McGarrett...we have different definitions of fun."

"Oh, I bet that's not _entirely _true," Steve said, tilting his hips back and rubbing his ass against Danny's cock. For a moment, Danny was too shocked – and yeah, too lost in a wave of pleasure – to respond. Then he shoved Steve off him, and cuffed those big, talented hands behind his back.

"Sorry, pal," Danny said through gritted teeth. "I'm married, and you're under arrest."

Three feet away, his probie Jenna holstered the gun she'd had trained on Steve. She grinned at Danny, and then led their captured quarry to the car.

Danny leaned back against the wall and blew out his breath. He'd thought this would be a triumphant moment, concluding the longest manhunt of his career. But really, he just felt worn out and deflated. He wanted to go home to Weehawken, kiss Rachel, read Grace a bedtime story, and not give Steven J. McGarrett another thought until the trial rolled around.

* * *

><p>Now, four years later, Danny is disappointed that recapturing Steve is so <em>easy<em>.

Once it becomes clear that the guy broke out in search of Catherine Rollins, partner in crime and love of his life, Danny simply has to follow her trail. It takes him under two hours to find Steve sitting on the floor of an empty Manhattan apartment, with – of all things – a beer coaster in his hands. It's an odd shape, and not a brand Danny recognizes.

"If you wanted to meet up for a beer, you could have just called me," Danny says as he walks in through the open door. "You know, in three months, when your sentence was over. I might even have picked up."

"Couldn't wait that long," Steve replies, seemingly unsurprised by Danny's arrival.

Danny circles the central pillar his fugitive is slumped against, looking him over closely. There's no sign that he's carrying, and no evidence that Steve's ever committed a violent crime before...but desperate men, desperate measures, yada yada. And Danny knows damn well that Steve grew up around guns.

"Get up, McGarrett, and turn around. No sudden movements; you know the drill."

When he stands, Danny is abruptly reminded of just how much taller and stronger this guy is. Despite Danny's sidearm and his extensive training, he's not sure he could win a physical fight. But Steve turns without resisting, and puts his hands above his head.

Danny frisks him, noting as he goes that Steve is thinner overall but that certain muscle groups are more pronounced. He must have been working out in prison.

Finding Steve to be unarmed, Danny cuffs him and then radios his team and the Marshals, reporting that the subject has been located and secured. Now it's just a matter of time before Steve is no longer his problem...and once again, he feels weirdly flat.

To avoid an uncomfortable silence, he says, "So I guess Cath moved out, huh?"

"I missed her by two days," Steve says, turning around again so he can lean against the pillar. Danny stays at a safe distance, stance relaxed but ready to react.

"Yeah, but did you miss the part where Cath broke up with you on her last visit?" he asks. "Don't get me wrong; I'm impressed that you managed to escape one of the country's most secure prisons, only six weeks later. But isn't it kind of stalkerish to try and track her down?"

Steve rests his head against the scuffed white paint and sighs. "I just couldn't believe she meant it – we've been together on and off since high school, you know?"

Danny did know that, in fact. Steve had tried to play the international man of mystery, using many aliases and telling many stories about his past. As soon as Danny learned that he grew up in Hawaii, though, any chance of anonymity was lost.

It's hard to go unnoticed on a small island, especially when your mother (a prominent prosecutor) died in a fiery car crash that may or may not have been an accident, and your father (a police lieutenant) may or may not have been corrupt.

Add to that winning every art prize on offer since grade school, and then abruptly disappearing at age 17 with your girlfriend...and, well, it'd be a surprise if your name and picture didn't appear all over the local media. Honestly, Danny can't believe nobody connected the dots before Steve's case landed on his desk.

Now, he shakes his head and tells Steve, "Sometimes you just don't see the end coming. But you should still respect Cath's wishes, and let her go."

Steve glances at Danny's left hand. "No ring anymore, and the tan line's faded too. Rachel divorced you, huh?"

"It's a little creepy that you know her name," Danny points out.

"Hey, you know all about me, right? What was my mom's middle name?"

"Barbara," Danny says automatically – he'd memorized Steve's file long ago. "But that's not creepy; that's my _job_."

"And it's my job as an artist to pay attention to detail," Steve counters, then chuckles unexpectedly. "Like the fact you were wearing that same tie the last time you arrested me."

"This is my favorite tie," Danny says. "Grace gave it to me for Father's Day."

"Wasn't she like four years old, back then?"

"Yeah, but Rachel assures me that she pointed to it, among a whole rack of different ties, and said, 'Danno will like that one'."

He realizes his mistake when Steve grins widely. "Your daughter calls you 'Danno'? That's _adorable_, brah...I gotta remember that."

"It's adorable when my daughter says it, sure. But I'm still Special Agent Danny Williams to you, pal."

Distant shouts and thudding footsteps suggest that back-up is here at last. Danny guesses they discovered the elevator was out.

"I hope this little escapade was worth it," he says, "because they'll probably give you another four years."

"I don't care." Steve straightens up, narrowing his eyes at Danny. "Hey, that red thread on your shoulder there: any idea what it is?"

Danny shrugs, plucking the weird metallic object off his suit jacket and twisting it between thumb and forefinger. "No clue. We had a somewhat explosive development in another long-running forgery investigation this morning, and then I got pulled away to come catch you. Do you know?"

Steve nods. "If I tell you, will you meet with me back in prison in one week?"

"Sure," Danny says, curiosity piqued, as armed agents approach rapidly.

"It's the security fiber for the new Canadian $100 bill," Steve informs him, repeating "One week, Danno" as two US Marshals grab him roughly and lead him away.

Danny is left standing in an empty apartment, gaze flicking between the short red thread in his hand and the tall recaptured fugitive disappearing down the hallway.

On a whim, he bends down and picks up the discarded beer coaster. It advertises a craft lager called 'Longboard', with a vintage-style illustration showing a man surfing. On the back there's a printed map of the Hawaiian islands.

"Huh," Danny mutters, and slips the coaster into his pocket. It may be meaningful to Steve, and he's reluctant to deprive the guy of something so small when he's already lost everything else.

* * *

><p>Steve's tip about Canadian hundreds being counterfeited was dead accurate. It stirs up a polite storm north of the border, and opens up a new line of inquiry in the Dutchman investigation.<p>

So Danny goes back upstate a week later, as promised, and sits in an iron-barred interview room with the man he's now caught twice. The orange jumpsuit really doesn't suit him, Danny notes, but dressing prisoners in such a lurid color is just part of the psychological battle waged inside prison walls.

When Steve refuses to explain how he knew about the security fiber, Danny lets it slide. All the precautions in the world can't stop the flow of information – and contraband – into prisons. No doubt Ho Lee, Steve's mysterious mentor and best friend, has remained in touch via coded letters or something.

But then, to Danny's astonishment, Steve offers to help catch the Dutchman...and offers himself as a confidential informant on a leash.

Well, what Steve actually proposes is him being released into Danny's custody, wearing a supposedly tamper-proof GPS tracking anklet, and working as a consultant to the White Collar unit. In effect, though, it's the same thing.

And yeah, Danny briefly entertains the possibility. He pictures Steve coming into the office every day, wearing a well-fitted suit and chatting up the cute interns. He imagines Steve charming witnesses, and leading suspects to divulge more than they'd intended. He even considers how good Steve would be at going undercover.

But..._no_. It's utterly insane and totally unworkable, and he says as much.

"I know you, McGarrett. You'd run as soon as my back was turned, tracker or no tracker. Don't try and con me; this is all about finding Cath."

Steve shakes his head, blue eyes wide and guileless. "I thought about what you said, about letting her go. It breaks my heart, but I have to accept Cath's decision."

This guy is a world-class liar who's loved that woman since they were kids, so Danny finds that very hard to believe.

"And you'd really be willing to turn on your fellow criminals, to ensure your own freedom? Whatever would your old buddy Mr. Lee say?"

"Oh, he understands," Steve says with a smile. "Who do you think helped me with all the research?"

Danny pushes Steve's folder of print-outs back across the table. "Points for effort, but the answer is no."

Spreading his hands, Steve says, "Please, Danny, will you at least think about it?"

"Sorry, McGarrett: even if I was willing to take you on, the Bureau brass would never agree. With your history, it's just way too risky."

Steve exhales heavily, his perfect posture slipping a little. Feeling sympathetic despite himself, Danny pulls out the Longboard coaster and passes it over. "Hey, I thought you might like to have this. Think Cath left it for you on purpose?"

"Yeah. It was her way of telling me goodbye."

"How do you figure?"

Stroking the colorful cardboard with a fingertip, Steve explains, "We left Hawaii in a hurry, with practically nothing, and Cath always longed to go back. She wanted us to get a place by the ocean, where we could sit and sip Longboards or go out and hit the waves. This coaster was a kind of placeholder for that dream...but I guess she got tired of waiting for me."

Steve McGarrett looks like James Bond in a tux, and can discuss fine wine and fine art like he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. It's hard for Danny to imagine him in board shorts and flip flops, drinking beer on a tropical beach.

"Was that your dream, too?"

"I mostly wanted her to be happy." Steve sighs. "But yeah, there's a part of me that still hopes to go back someday."

"You probably could have made it," Danny feels compelled to point out. "Once you realized Cath had already gone, you had a decent window before the BOLO got put out. Why didn't you try and get on a flight to Honolulu?"

"Because I _can't_ go home, Danny – not now, and maybe not ever," Steve says. "Get me out of here, and I'll tell you the full story."

Danny stands up, shaking his head regretfully. He really is curious, since all his digging never revealed the reason for Steve and Cath's sudden departure for the mainland. But this is out of his hands.

"Take care of yourself," he says. "I'll send you some new art supplies, okay?"

Steve doesn't reply, still staring down at the coaster.

Danny walks out of the prison and starts driving back to the city, feeling unaccountably guilty for leaving Steve there. The guy is a career criminal; the jury only convicted him of bond forgery, but Danny knows for damn sure that he committed many other thefts, forgeries, and cons. Steve probably deserves to be behind bars for _decades_, not just another four years.

* * *

><p>Later that afternoon, Danny goes over to Rachel's to pick Grace up. She's just come home from a tennis lesson, and is now getting ready for her usual mid-week stay with him.<p>

"Even after all that time inside, McGarrett's still got this ridiculous charm and confidence," Danny tells his ex-wife as they wait downstairs. "He carries himself like he's in a hotel ballroom, not a prison."

Danny slips his jacket off and sinks back into the luxurious leather sofa, which has got to be worth more than his own apartment's furniture combined. This Upper West Side mansion, owned by Rachel's second husband Stan, has a square footage bigger than Danny's entire building.

Luckily, all the new-found wealth doesn't seem to have gone to their daughter's head. Although Grace may be playing tennis at an exclusive club, these days, she's still playing Little League too.

Rachel shakes her head at Danny. "Steve McGarrett always got under your skin, didn't he? You pursued a lot of criminals while we were together, but his case was the only one where it felt like I had to compete for your attention."

"I'm sorry, Rach," Danny says, not for the first time and surely not for the last. "I know it was hard on you, me being away so much."

She gives him a sad smile. "Our marriage was already on the rocks before his file landed on your desk, Danny, and you know it. We likely would've split up anyway, even if you'd worked nothing but mortgage fraud and never left the tri-state area."

It's a relief to hear her say that, and he's thankful that their divorce was relatively amicable. Still...the McGarrett case changed Danny's life, in more ways than one, and having Steve offer his services today brought it all back to the surface.

The next morning, Danny meets with his boss and dutifully reports what Steve had suggested. To his surprise, Agent Hughes doesn't laugh or dismiss the proposal out of hand. In fact, he calls his own boss, Assistant Director Bancroft, down from the top floor to discuss it.

"The Dutchman was already one of our top priorities," Hughes says, "and now the Canadians are breathing down our necks too. My gut says the bastard's working towards something big. So if Steve McGarrett has knowledge or experience that would help, why not give him a trial run just for this case? He could prove very useful, and then we might even consider making it a longer-term thing."

Danny stares at him, appalled. "Sir, you _know _McGarrett's track record. If he can escape Super-Max, I don't believe any GPS anklet will hold him for long."

"So you make it clear to him that you've already caught him twice," Bancroft says, "and that if he runs again, he'll be facing a life sentence. I have faith that you can make this work, Agent Williams."

This is a bad idea on so many levels, Danny thinks. But he can hardly tell his superiors the truth: that Steve McGarrett is the only man to ever make Danny question his sexual orientation, and that the prospect of being bound to him in any way makes Danny's mouth go dry.

* * *

><p>It takes a while for the bureaucratic wheels to turn, what with the FBI, the US Marshals Service, and the Bureau of Prisons all involved. There's a lot of inter-agency squabbling, which Jenna cheerfully refers to as 'dick-waving'. Danny does his best to steer clear of the politics and just focus on finding the Dutchman.<p>

Though he sends art supplies, as promised, Danny decides not to tell Steve that his work-release idea has been taken seriously. He doesn't want to get Steve's hopes up in case it falls through; maybe Danny isn't always a nice guy, but he's not intentionally cruel either.

Steve mails him a handmade card, thanking him for the gift. Enclosed is a sketch of Danny wearing his favorite tie, suit jacket slung casually over one shoulder, black shoes shined and blue dress shirt spotless. It's labeled 'Danno in sartorial splendor'. Despite his annoyance at Steve borrowing Grace's nickname for him, Danny can't help smiling. He sticks the picture in his desk drawer.

Finally, all the parties are satisfied and all the paperwork is done. Steve has been sent a letter informing him of his imminent parole, and has signed a lengthy contract outlining his rights and responsibilities as a felon in FBI custody.

The night before Danny is due to go pick him up, he looks through all the other cards Steve has sent since Danny's testimony helped put him away.

Somehow, it always seemed like a friendly salute rather than anything threatening; Danny even started to look forward to receiving each envelope. There are four birthday cards with artworks inside, including great paintings apparently reproduced from memory.

But there are also four cards which arrived for his name-day each year. And how the hell had Steve known a) that Danny's mom is Polish, b) that his family followed Polish tradition by celebrating name-days as well as actual birthdays, and c) which of the five different St. Daniel's Days they'd always observed? He guesses Steve must have dug deep into his life, wanting to understand the man who chased him so doggedly.

Now he's going to be in Danny's life for real, and their roles will be reversed. This time, Danny will be leading the dance and Steve will be following. It's an unnerving thought...and yet it's secretly a little thrilling, too.

At 10am the next morning, Danny is leaning against his car outside the prison's front entrance. Right on time, there's a buzzing sound and the outer gate swings open. Steve emerges, wearing civilian clothes and a slightly dazed expression.

"Let me see it," Danny says, wanting to assert his dominance right off. Steve stops dead, and obligingly pulls up his pants leg to reveal the gray plastic tracker encircling his left ankle.

"You know how this works, right? Your ass belongs to me now, Steve," Danny warns.

He figures he should start using the guy's first name, if they'll be seeing so much of each other. And to be honest, it's been a long time since Danny's been able to think of him as just McGarrett...just another felon he chased and caught.

Steve gives him a broad grin. "Suits me fine. We're gonna get along great, Danno."

"Hey, what'd I tell you about that?"

They get in the car, still arguing about what Steve's allowed to call him. It's going to be a very long drive, Danny thinks, but he's smiling as he starts the engine.


End file.
